


In the Shadows, Darkly

by BatsAreFluffy



Series: Like tears in the rain [11]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Day 11: Psych 101, Gen, Paranoid, Whump with creepy thrown in, Whumptober 2020, dum dum DOM!, imagining threats, or are they?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26961703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatsAreFluffy/pseuds/BatsAreFluffy
Summary: There wasn’t a pattern that Bruce could find. Neither weather, number, or day of the week were linked. But every so often, more frequently than he would like, he could feel something following him.
Series: Like tears in the rain [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950151
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	In the Shadows, Darkly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AboutBatman (MistyDawn)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistyDawn/gifts).



There wasn’t a pattern that Bruce could find. Neither weather, number, or day of the week were linked. But every so often, more frequently than he would like, he could feel something following him.

It wasn’t just at work, or walking to the car late at night. It wasn’t only Bruce it followed, either. Batman had felt it, too. Something’s attention was focused on him, something that hadn’t shown itself yet. Alfred had combed through security footage, Victor had gone through cctv, and found nothing. But still, it was there.

Now, Bruce knew he could be paranoid. It was a side effect of being very popular, and very good, at his various ‘jobs’. Brucie Wayne would make a kidnapper’s career infamous. Bruce Wayne would be a jackpot for a con artist to approach. The list of beings that wanted to mount Batman’s cowl (with head) on their walls was longer than the Gotham phone book. So, he knew paranoid. He knew when his medications weren’t working as well as possible. That feeling was easily spotted by himself and Alfred. It wasn’t those.

He’d been out with one of his assistants, walking into the office, when she’d turned and looked behind them. She’d said it felt like her ex’s eyes were on them. Considering that her ex was doing 12 for a laundry list of crimes, he’d ushered her inside and told the guards to keep an extra eye out.

An intern had stopped mid-sentence, and turned to the closed elevator doors. He said he could have sworn that someone was waiting to come out of the elevator. He wasn’t sure who, but his pale features gave away his feelings. The counter had marked the elevator down on six. It was a key fob floor. No one would be coming up unannounced.

What cinched it for Bruce, though, was when Alfred had felt it, too. Bruce had felt it start to creep closer, just outside the kitchen window-sheet. He had steadied his breathing and trying his best to ignore the prickling feeling. Turning to Alfred, he froze. Hidden by the kitchen island, Alfred had his Colt drawn, safety already off. They’d stayed in that tableau for far longer than either would have been comfortable admitting to.

That tonight it showed itself was unsurprising. He was in the cave, alone, working on the car. Alfred had retired early. The Bat was staying in tonight. So, he wasn’t in his suit, he wasn’t around anyone else, and he wasn’t paying particularly close attention to the far side of the car park.

The silhouette stood unmoving.

Watching.

The dread set back into Bruce’s mind, and his hands fumbled with the socket wrench. Standing, he turned around, back toward the stairwell, looking for the source of the feeling.

The silhouette was beside the motorbikes, unmoving.

Watching.

Bruce turned and stopped. Starred at the shape in the darkness. Noted its shape (humanoid), its size (8’2” – 8’4”), and he noted that he couldn’t see any colours, clothing, shades of black. Just a silhouette in the darkness.

“Well?” Bruce said, voice calm. “You’ve found me. What is it you want?”

The silhouette stood, unmoving.

Watching.

It was gone.

Bruce blinked, turning quickly. It hadn’t moved. It was just _gone_ in an instant. The rest of the cave was unchanged. Nothing out of place. No unaccountable shadows. Taking a shaky breath, he marched over to the nearest bank of computers, typing quickly. Security feeds popped up, running real time, and showed nothing. Bruce keyed more commands into his system, and pulled up the saved feeds - the car park, the motorbikes, the car.

He wasn’t surprised to see nothing.

With another look around, he closed the feeds, resaving everything. He closed the side monitors, and reached for the main monitor’s mouse.

The hand on the back of his neck was colder than dry ice.

He gasped, body trying to arch away from the burning cold. The hand was firm, just pulling at the skin around his vertebrae. It pulled him back a few steps, eyes starring sightlessly ahead. The ‘fingers’ lengthened around his throat, wrapping around several times, until the coils tilted his head back even farther, his body stiff below. Bruce tried to move, to call out, to even lift his hand, but he was frozen.

The silhouette was in front of him.

Bruce wanted to yell. Bruce wanted to thrash, to drop to the floor, to body slam whatever the fuck held him like a child’s plastic doll. This close up, he could see the inky black scales, the completely void eye sockets. The being had longer arms than normal, and, so far as Bruce could tell, had no bones in them either. They coiled like an octopi, ready for movement. 

The one behind him reached around, tiny ‘fingers’ reached his face. They felt his cheeks, and crawled up his cheekbone until finding his brows. With a downward stroke, they closed Bruce’s eyes, wrapping tightly. The appendages somehow bent him further backwards, his throat arched under the first set of ‘fingers’.

Slowly, Bruce could feel his chest getting colder. He could feel the frost creeping up his windpipe, lungs labouring under the sudden frigid air. He could feel his guts cramping, the full body version of a brain freeze, and he was powerless. Powerless to move, to stop this, to even ask what they hell they were doing.

Powerless to ask why his shirt was being undone. To move away from the thinnest sharp instrument that sliced his skin. He could only stay standing, frozen, blinded and paralyzed, as whatever the fuck they were doing dug deeper into his side, around his ribs, and closer to his liver. He couldn’t even scream, even though he felt little to no pain.

The tentacles pulled his shirt back over his shoulders, tucked it tight against his chest. The blindfold was lifted, and his head tilted forward just enough to see the other being. Held tightly in a cocoon of tentacles, a round purple shape pulsed softly. The silhouette let him look for another moment, before it folded in on itself and vanished.

His chest was thawing. And it hurt. It hurt enough to fuel the deep anger that he’d been captured. Bruce tried to reach around, grab onto the ones around his throat, surprised he could even move.

The second blast of cold knocked his breath out in a groan. The ice whispered, “And then you forgot,” as the tentacles withdrew, easing him to the floor.

“Again.”

-

**Author's Note:**

> So, I took your suggestion, sat down in the late evening hours, and totally FREAKED MYSELF OUT.  
> So, yay! About Batman (Misty Dawn), hop you like this one! :)


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